


The Words They Speak

by Sinister_Kid



Series: Into The Light (Cole/Cullen Ficlets) [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Feels, Awkward Cullen Meets Awkward Cole, Awkwardness, Developing Relationship, Human Cole (Dragon Age), M/M, POV Cullen Rutherford, Poetry, Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27036211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinister_Kid/pseuds/Sinister_Kid
Summary: Cole only hears Cullen when he's speaking, so he asks a lot of questions. He sits on Cullen's desk.It doesn't mind, and neither does Cullen.
Relationships: Cole/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Into The Light (Cole/Cullen Ficlets) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970680
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	The Words They Speak

Cullen glanced at the window nearby, and clung to the metaphor behind it. When Cole spoke of his words being like the light that shown through, warped and changing in color, different from what was on the other side of the glass, Cullen finally understood. It had been the key to making sense of the mess that was Cole's mind. He was only sorry it took him this long to get what he'd been saying. 

He just said exactly what he was thinking, that was all. 

The flaw was only in someone's understanding of it.

Twas not the light, but how it reflected.

Cullen imagined that if he actually started speaking precisely what he thought it would come out sounding like garbled gibberish too.

_Eyes a cool blue like the glow of lyrium but without all the ugly singing...pale like the moonlight and full of stars...like a candle in the darkness softly glowing, burning, bright but not too bright that it blinds me..._

All thoughts of Cole.

They wouldn't make any sense to anyone else without proper context he supposed, and to any ordinary person they would sound like something out of a trashy romance serial, rather than simply descriptives that came to mind when thinking of the young used-to-be spirit. But he supposed in Cole's head they were normal. All thoughts and feelings, but not the sort of things one typically spoke aloud. Cole, however, did speak them.

Perhaps it was time Cullen started speaking Cole's language.

* * *

Cole started asking questions. A _lot_ of questions. Because he now relied almost entirely on what a person said to convey feeling, as he could no longer poke around inside someone's head, Cole took to asking lots of menial questions about whatever things he desired to know, just to hear Cullen's responses. It never failed. Now that he knew he was welcome in Cullen's office, the Commander could all but guarantee he'd drop by at some point and pick Cullen's brain for information.

He'd sit cross legged on the empty space of Cullen's desk, even though there was a perfectly good chair not two feet from him. It was disconcerting, but he was always very careful not to upset anything on the desk, like it was sacred. When Cullen asked him why he sat there, he'd answered with, "The desk doesn't mind." He supposed that simply meant exactly what it sounded like. That the desk didn't object. Couldn't. Neither did Cullen as long as nothing was broken, and nothing ever was.

Admittedly, it was a rather pleasant distraction from work sometimes.

They let talk of Cullen's feelings for him go unspoken between them for the time being. Cole never demanded any sort of acknowledgement or validation, as the Commander supposed he didn't really _need_ it. As if simply knowing what Cullen felt had been enough to sooth any doubts in his head. That he'd been able to peer behind the glass, so to speak, and know what was there, had been all he really wanted in the first place. 

Cullen tried to wrap his head around that notion. That Cole had simply desired to know how Cullen felt about him, and now he knew. It hadn't been said really, but expressed in a way. Out loud when Cassandra came barging into his office to tell him about her interesting conversation with Cole, who had been listening in and heard part of it. It made the Commander clam up in embarrassment at first, until he realized that the young man he harbored feelings for would never actually _demand_ that he act on them.

Only share them with Cole.

Often the questions Cole would ask were things like what he thought of other people. Almost like the Inquisitor, Cole would get Cullen's opinion on things and people around him. Sometimes give his own, and Cullen would simply listen to whatever he said. Sometimes they were odd, random questions, like what blueberry pie tasted like. He'd never needed to eat as a spirit, but now he did, and probably wanted to know if something would taste good before he tried it.

The first thing that popped in Cullen's head when he thought of blueberry pie was the memory of his mother making it when he was little. So Cullen had answered, "Family. Warm and sweet. Like happiness." Because those were the things he always associated with the taste of blueberry pie. It made him think of Honnleath. Instead of making zero sense whatsoever to Cole that he'd blurted out that pie tasted like his family, it seemed to make _perfect_ sense to him, as he'd smiled.

Then he said, "I've never had family, but yours sounds very nice."

He'd followed up that question with why Cullen didn't reply to Mia's letters, so Cullen did it again, and said exactly what came to mind. "It's not as if I don't know what to say to her. I know perfectly what I'd say, but I don't know how she'll respond to what I write, and _that's_ what worries me."

Again, Cole didn't twist his face in confusion. Just nodded and said, "You're afraid she won't _like_ what you have to say. That it won't be what she _wanted_ you to say. Because she wants you to lie to her, tell her everything is what it's not. And you don't want to lie."

"More or less."

"I understand."

Yes, it seemed Cullen had finally cracked the code on how to conversate with Cole. Simply blurt out precisely what he was thinking as the thoughts formed, and Cole seemed to comprehend them far better than any way he might answer the question with anyone else after thinking things through. And Cole did the same. If he had a thought, he shared it about himself. _Only_ about himself. He stopped sharing thoughts of others that he remembered learning as a spirit.

Everything that poured from Cole's lips came from Cole's own head. 

Confusing sometimes, but beautiful to hear just as it was with no trying to decipher it to make it mean something more. Cullen was content to listen with all the effort of hearing poetry read aloud. To the pleasant noise that drowned out the song of Lyrium. And it was only when Cole's questions became particularly _intrusive_ was it ever really a bother.

One afternoon he asked, "Why didn't Amell want to free you? She knew what they had done to you. But she wanted to _keep_ you there."

That was also something Cullen needed no context for, as it had been very specifically worded. He tensed when he heard Amell's name and silently thanked the Maker no one else was in his office but them. Luckily Cole didn't notice his distress however, and was blissfully unaware as he could no longer peer into his mind. So long as he kept a neutral expression on his face, Cole didn't notice his agitation, much less respond to it with more blurted words.

Just waited patiently for an answer. 

But even though he could no longer see inside Cullen, it was a reminder that once upon a time he _had_.

He never forgot the note Cole had left him weeks ago.

– _Uldred marked you, but didn't make you. You stayed you._

He _knew_ what happened at Kinloch.

That hadn't magically changed.

But the blow was softened by the fact that at least Cole was no longer affected by Cullen's ever swinging emotions, much less misinterpreting them as anger or fear directed at Cole himself. He looked clueless to them still, sitting atop his desk, staring up at Cullen. _Yes, entirely clueless. And Cassandra expects me to somehow not see him as a child still?_ Cullen sighed and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. 

It was true, the Hero of Ferelden would have been much happier to leave him trapped behind that magical barrier Uldred had conjured when the mages revolted in the Tower. Luckily it was dispelled when he was killed, but it still hurt that Amell would have left him to starve and die if she had been able. That she viewed him no differently than any other Templar of the Circle did sting a little to thing about.

But it was just one of the many reasons Cullen vowed to change. 

"I distinctly remember telling you I didn't want to talk about the Circle," Cullen chided Cole.

He didn't look chastened however, just sighed up at him, like Cullen was the frustrating one.

"Yes, I _know_. Before, when I looked inside. You hated hearing what your pain sounded like. But I thought...maybe now that I _can't_ see it...you'd want to tell me? And you could tell me only what you _want_ me to hear. I thought it would help. You _don't_ talk about it. You _never_ talk about it. But that's the only thing you _haven't_ tried. So maybe talking _would_ make things better."

Cullen's eyes darted over his face. He was so much more expressive now than as a spirit. The Commander could see so much more of that face too. He didn't hide it under a hat currently, and his hair no longer fell in his eyes. He was truly something, with that quizzical look, and Cullen wondered if he'd always had it, but the Commander simply never noticed before.

As if forgetting what they were discussing, Cole asked, "What does that look mean?" And Cullen let out a half chuckle. 

"I had just been thinking that I didn't know that hat of yours ever came off."

A pause, then...

Whatever that had translated as to Cole made him break into the brightest of beaming smiles. Then he ducked his chin, cheeks turning red and he... _laughed_. Actually laughed. When he heard it he stopped for a second, looking surprised at himself. "Happiness is falling out. I'm laughing. I've never done that before." Cullen smirked in amusement at Cole's absolute shock at the sound of his own chuckling. Then he did it some more. Laughed at whatever he was thinking about. 

But then it slowly started to taper and Cole sighed, "I haven't forgotten what I asked."

Now it was Cullen's turn to sigh. "Maybe one day we'll talk about it, but just...not yet? Not _now_ , I mean. When and if I'm ever ready to talk about that, I'll tell you."

Cole smiled at him. "Alright."

Seconds later, a scout appeared at Cullen's door, letting himself in. Cole frowned and mumbled, "Never knocks, no one knocks, not everyone is allowed in, but you don't know if you're silent." Either he was parroting Cullen's own feelings on being interrupted, or he didn't like it anymore than the Commander did. But the scout entered the office, closing the door behind him, and held out a report. 

"Commander," he greeted, barely even acknowledging Cole in the room at first, but then he did a double-take. "The...the copy of Rylen's report that you requested?"

"Ah, thank you," Cullen said and accepted the bit of parchment offered. "Sorry," he mumbled to Cole. Though he hardly looked bothered, curious eyes focused on the note. He hopped up from the desk and hovered closely, leaning in to read Rylen's report over Cullen's shoulder. "Interested in how Rylen's doing? Or just want to know eveything I know?" Cullen asked him. Cole smirked at the question.

"Both?" he answered. Then nodded. "Both."

The scout cleared his throat, still waiting to be dismissed.

"I've nothing to add, as of yet," Cullen said to the man. "We'll wait until the Inquisitor decides how she'd like us to proceed."

"Yessir."

"Carry on."

The scout saluted and left, but shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Cole, who hadn't noticed. His eyes had moved from the paper to Cullen. They were now standing awfully close. Those bright blue eyes staring up at him like that provoked feelings Cullen still wasn't sure he should act on. But in the time it took to sum up some sort of response as to how their close proximity might not be appropriate, Cole had backed away and settled on the desk, as if realizing it for himself.

Then he asked yet another question, as he picked at the lacing on his boot. "Cullen?"

"Yes, Cole?"

"What do you think...about _me_?"

Cullen's stomach flipped, and his heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't simply blurt out his thoughts this time around. "I...think a lot of things about you. You'll have to be more specific in the asking, I'm afraid."

Cole thought for a moment, teeth catching his lower lip.

"When...you think about me...what...what do you feel?"

Another loaded question honestly. "U-uhm," Cullen stammered, reaching to rub his neck again, feeling his face grow hot.

It was not a reaction Cole could overlook.

"You feel _something_ , I know that much. Face red and warm like the hands that hold...I like your hands. I wonder what else they want to do."

_Maker's breath. Does he not even realize how that sounds?_

...Or perhaps he _did_.

Especially knowing how Cole's pattern of thought wound its way through the maze and out of his mouth, Cullen wondered if Cole knew _precisely_ how that sounded, and genuinely wished to know what else Cullen wanted to do with his hands besides hold him. His throat itched, words refused to come out, momentarily frozen, wondering if indeed Cole possessed very mature thoughts about the two of them. Maker, he didn't know how to respond.

But Cole had asked a question. 

What did Cullen feel when he thought of Cole?

"Is...there any chance you'll give me more time to answer that question as well?" Cullen asked hopefully.

And thankfully all Cole did was smile and nod, saying, "Yes. Tell me when you know the words."

But then he got up unexpectedly and wandered toward the door, leading out onto the battlements, in the direction of the Herald's Rest. "Leaving are we?" Cullen asked. "And without so much as a farewell."

Cole turned, smile playing at his lips still. "Goodbyes mean not seeing someone, and I don't ever want to not see you. So I won't say them."

Cullen chuckled. "Alright. We'll speak later then."

"I hope."

* * *

The Inquisitor pulled him aside after a meeting in the War Room and requested a game of chess in the garden. Cullen would never turn down a chess match if they'd no more important things to attend to, which they hadn't any. So he sat across from her under the gazebo, eyes on the leaves hanging in the tree branches above when they weren't on the table between them. Watching the light pass through the leaves.

Lady Trevelyan made a move, so Cullen focused on the board.

"I hear Cole has been visiting you regularly in your office," she spoke as Cullen made his countermove and he looked up at her, seeing her smirk. 

"I was wondering when people were going to notice," he commented. 

"Oh they've noticed," she chuckled. "They just know better than to spread rumors and gossip where their Commander might be standing and possibly overhear it."

Cullen grimaced. "Dare I ask what they've been saying about me?"

She studied the chessboard, contemplating her next move. After careful consideration she moved a piece, but kept her hand on it, unsure of the move she was about to make. Indecisive. As always. As she hadn't let go of it yet, she moved it back, worrying her lip and thinking it over. Cullen wouldn't dare patronize the Inquisitor and coach her on how to play better, but he'd be damned if sometimes he didn't want to. She played _horribly_. 

She was always second guessing herself, and the final move was always the worst decision to make, rather than better. But Cullen said nothing and waited patiently for her to decide. "We'll they're not saying anything bad," she said. Then she leaned back in the chair, satisfied with where she put her piece. "They're just curious that's all. Wondering what the Commander of the Inquisition and a now human riddle speaking spirit might possibly have to talk about."

"Plenty," Cullen said, enigmatically. "We've not had many opportunities to speak to one another in the past. That's...mostly my own fault. I don't care to have a spirit picking apart my thoughts."

"I don't think many would."

"Is...there a reason you brought it up?"

The Inquisitor shrugged.

"I suppose I'm just curious too. Don't get me wrong, I'm by no means discouraging the two of you from being friends, I think it's wonderful, Cole's very sweet once you get past the eerie way he speaks, I just...I admit I don't understand it either. You and Cole are so different. I wouldn't think you'd have much to talk about. And given how _invasive_ Cole can be, I wasn't sure if you would even want to. Even though he's human now he's still... _odd_."

Cullen chuckled at that. "He is. I suppose it's just a matter of learning how to listen to him."

"And have you mastered such an ability then?"

"I'd like to think so."

He moved a piece on the board.

At least Cole hadn't run crying from his office because he was upset over something Cullen had said to him. That much Cullen had accomplished. But other than the beautiful sound of Cole's bemused laughter ringing in his mind still, the Commander hadn't truly any certainty of whether or not Cole liked his company. They were alike in that sense. Cullen couldn't always judge a person's approval of him so easily. He too needed verbal affirmations at times. 

That much he understood about Cole.

"I've...heard _another_ rumor," Trevelyan began carefully, sliding a chess piece into place. Cullen swallowed at the foreboding way she spoke. "It...might disturb you."

"If we're speaking of Cole I imagine that to some people the whole conversation is disturbing," Cullen said, and she snorted.

"True. But...a little bird told me that Cole has a bit of a crush on you."

"Ahh... So I've heard as well," he said with a nod. Secretly praying she hadn't heard he might reciprocate those feelings.

"Oh."

"I'm not sure whether I should encourage it," he said. "Though...not so sure I want to discourage it either. None of us should dictate how Cole does and doesn't feel about someone, unless it's harmful. I don't see where anyone would be hurt by it."

"Except Cole himself maybe," the Inquisitor pointed out. 

"Yes, Lady Cassandra said something similar. But I'm not sure that can be helped I'm afraid."

"Meaning you _don't_ feel the same about him?"

Cullen sighed. At that statement, he feared she already knew precisely how he felt. Maybe Cassandra had said something. Or even Cole himself. What reason would Cole have to keep it a secret? He wasn't conditioned to feel ashamed of having feelings for someone and he hated lies and secrets that didn't help people, like the sort Leliana had to immerse herself in as a spy. He was open, and transparent as glass.

"I'm...not sure _how_ I should feel really."

"What do you mean?"

Cullen scrubbed his face with his hand, mulling it over. "I don't know. He's all stained glass and starlight and I'm...parchment and ink," he shrugged. "We both hear it but it doesn't sound the same."

"Uhh...you maybe want to try that again in Common, Commander?" she laughed.

"What? Oh. Sorry. _Maker_ , I've been spending so much time listening to Cole speak I've started to sound like him, havent I?" He sighed again. "What I _meant_ is...Cole and I have very different ways of expressing ourselves, and I'm not entirely sure if he's correctly interpreted what I feel about him and vice versa. Even if we did feel the same about each other, I feel like we'd be lost in translation figuring it all out, and I'm not entirely certain that entertaining a romantic relationship with Cole is even appropriate."

"But you _do_ have feelings for him?" she asked. Cullen nodded. The Inquisitor leaned back in her seat. "I had suspected as much but I wasn't sure if I should put that thought to words, or what you might feel about it. Honestly, I think it's all rather endearing, but I also understand your concerns. It's hard to really judge Cole's grasp of more complex emotions like romantic love. And most of what he knows is what he's interpreted as a Spirit of Compassion."

"Precisely."

"And you don't wish to groom him to be your lover."

"Maker no. Certainly not. I would not wish to coerce Cole into behaving certain ways around me, just because I find it suitable."

"We'll, maybe its a simple fix of making Cole understand _perfectly_ how you _do_ feel about him, and then letting him decide if he chooses to feel the same."

"Ah, but therein lies the complication," Cullen admitted. 

"Making it clear to Cole how you feel in a way that's appropriate?"

"Yes. In a way that doesn't overstep any boundaries between us. Only I haven't quite figured out what those boundaries are," he chuckled, massaging his cheek. "He might be far more complex than anyone realizes," he said. "He's hiding a lot inside that head of his. It's just a matter of pulling it out of him. But it requires speaking in a language he understands."

"We'll at least one of us can make sense of it," she laughed. "It sounds like he's speaking in circles whenever I try to listen to it. I never know what he means. Took me ages to pick apart what bits were his thoughts and someone else's. What parts he was speaking and what parts were him just parroting what others say."

"Well, he has his _own_ thoughts now," Cullen stated. "It's just obvious that he wasn't born with the ability to speak them like we do. He might never pass as a _normal_ human being, but he is most certainly human."

"Cassandra says his cryptic sentances sound like poetry sometimes."

"Hmm, yes...they...they do, don't they."

And then suddenly Cullen had an idea. 

Inspiration struck that instant, and he knew precisely how to answer Cole's questions. Precisely what sort of gesture that would tell Cole exactly how he felt. Word. For. Word.

"If...you don't mind, Your Worship, might we finish this game another time perhaps? I just remembered somewhere I needed to be."

"Oh? Well, alright then. I won't keep you."

Cullen got up, excused himself from the table, and left the garden presently, finding the quickest route back to his office. His duties were done for the day, and normally at this hour he'd be finding any and every excuse to avoid turning in, and likely stay up late finishing work that was meant for the following day, writing reports that weren't even to be delivered until the following night, but not that evening.

On that particular night he dressed down and out of his armor, then headed up the ladder to the loft above.

Not to sleep, but to write a _poem_.

He leaned back on the headboard, parchment propped on his knee, quill in hand, careful not to spill ink on the covers as he dipped into the pot, then began to write. He didn't filter his thoughts through colored glass but let them flow out naturally, just as they sounded in his head. All the thoughts and feelings Cole had ever invoked in him came spilling onto the paper. Such things that maybe only Cole would understand, because they were written in the language he spoke.

It was ironic, that Cole was always searching for what was in Cullen's _head_ , when he didn't know that he himself spoke from the _heart_.

So Cullen reached deep inside himself and plucked out all the feelings buried in his chest.

Once he'd written half a page at least, he stopped a rubbed his eyes. "Oh Maker," he groaned, pulling his hand away to see the ink stains on it, that were probably now all over his face as well. He'd have to clean that up somehow, and set aside his pet project to find a handkerchief. He ambled over to the washbasin he kept in his room and scrubbed his face. Then he sighed, tossing the damp cloth on a nearby chest.

When the ink dried on the paper, he rolled it up neatly and tied it with string.

Now all that was left to do was to find Cole, wherever he might be.

_If I were Cole, and I wasn't in my office, where might I be hiding?_

Cullen slid down the ladder and landed on the first floor with a thump, wincing a little. He didn't know how the Inquisitor and her companions could do that on a regular basis without their joints screaming. But he brushed it off and carried on, exiting his office and breathing in the fresh night air. Where would Cole go exactly? He was as unpredictable as the weather. Cullen didn't always like that about him, as he was a man that craved consistency, but he was learning to be flexible.

He wandered over to the stone handrail and looked down at the courtyard below to see residents of Skyhold turning in for the night. Most of them dispersing to find their beds, but some of them retiring to the tavern. It roared with laughter and music. Cole had mentioned too often how he couldn't stand 'the silence'. Also that he liked music, or so Cullen had gathered by his words. A tavern might be just the sort of place he might go then. Even if just to escape from the quiet of the world.

He couldn't imagine awkward, immutable Cole belonging in a place like the Herald's Rest, but then again, neither did he really fit anywhere else.

Eyes on the light emanating from the Rest, he navigated the ramparts until he found the entrance that led from the walkway right to the top floor of the establishment and headed inside. True to his gut instinct, Cole was there, but he wasn't mingling with the patrons. Instead he was hiding above the crowd, legs dangling as he sat on the floor by the railing, peeking through the wooden beams at all the people below.

Cullen moved to stand next to him, resting his elbows on the banister.

"You don't come to the tavern," Cole stated, when he noticed the Commander.

"No," he said. "These people see enough of me during the day. They shouldn't have to suffer me at night. I'm...not good company."

"You're not a _bother_ to them. They _need_ you."

"Needing and wanting are two different things, aren't they?"

"...Yes. Sometimes."

Cullen glanced down to see Cole looking up at him. Slowly he stood up and placed a hand on the railing, staring at Cullen still. "Do you need, or want...something?"

Cullen smiled a little, nodding his head. "Both, actually."

He stretched out his hand, holding up the scroll of parchment to Cole. "What's that?" Cole asked.

"Your answer."

Cole's eyes widened and lit up like a child's on Satinalia. Cullen was nearly blinded by all the brightness in his features as he greedily snatched the paper from his hand, but even though he was practically vibrating with excitement, he still had a care to be considerate to the paper when unraveling the roll. His eyes carefully read the words, his mouth parting in surprise and awe at what he read. Then... _tears_ started to form, as the words made him emotional.

"Oh C-Cullen," he choked. 

"You asked me what I feel about you..."

And what he made him feel was:

_Safe and secure_  
_Needed and wanted again_  
_Looked after and cared for_  
_Thought of often_  
_Bringing words and laughter to drown out the song_  
_Asking things and happily distracting_  
_Driving away the thoughts that keep me awake at night_  
_Even if talking about them still hurts_  
_Always wanting to help but never knowing how_  
_But the wanting to is all that matters now_  
_Because there is light and life and hope_  
_Hope to never stumble or falter_  
_No shadows in the darkness or demons at the door_  
_Not anymore_  
_Not with eyes so pale and blue like the moon_  
_Staring back at mine just as calm and bright_  
_Warm and welcome_  
_Like stained glass and starlight_  
_With soft hair and smiles_  
_Soothing touches that mend the aches_  
_And everything he never takes_  
_But gives_  
_I feel..._

" _Like this_," Cole spoke aloud, the last two words of what he wrote, releasing a shuddered breath with them. Then he let out another small whimper, sniffling.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Cullen said.

"They're _beautiful_ ," he said. Oh...He was _moved_ by Cullen's words, not hurt by them. "So bright, shining, glowing, mending tears that nothing else could..." He clutched the paper to his chest like it was the most precious gift in the world. "T-thank you." Then he practically leapt at Cullen, wrapping his arms around his neck in a tight squeeze of an embrace. Warm and suffocating. "I'll try to laugh more," he promised in Cullen's ear. Then resumed melting into Cullen's arms like he belonged in them.

Relaxing into Cole felt like sinking into a warm bath, releasing tension from his body he didn't even know he had. He smelled like apples and cinnamon, mildly of soap. He couldn't be sure of just how Cole had interpreted his feelings, but he said they were beautiful, and obviously it made him very happy to hear them. It made Cullen happy too. "I should head back to my office," he lamented, sadly, not really wanting to leave. "I've a long day tomorrow."

"You're the legs under the table, holding everything up. Legs need to rest sometimes."

"Goodnight, Cole," he said as the parted.

He smiled and said, "Maybe."

Yes.

Maybe it _would_ be.

**Author's Note:**

>  _"I had just been thinking that I didn't know that hat of yours ever came off."_ ⬅The moment Cole realized they're the same level of socially awkward.
> 
> ...Shame? What's that? Never heard of it.


End file.
